I could’ve woken you up in the morning and could’ve been the sun that rises even when we both live in a place where it never does.
I could’ve taken you to museums, at least 2 of where I’ve been to. The first one, we’ll have to take the bus because I’d tell you that I’m too lazy to drive but for the second one, I will tell you that I’ll drive you there.
My car would look at me as though it knows that there is another soul seating in the passenger seat – it was no longer some books, a box of pizza, or my dog.
I could’ve taken photos of you in that place, post them everywhere but subtly so that they can see that there are at least 2 forms of art in that photo — the one you’re looking at and the one I’m looking at.
I could’ve talked to you at night under the stars, in the same rooftop where I told you that I liked the cathartic experience of doing just what we could’ve done; the same rooftop where you talked about your life, at least some pieces of it.
I could’ve brought you to where I used to study. We could’ve walked the halls that stared at me for being too alone and too lonely only so I could tell them, “Hey, here he is, finally.” and they could’ve smiled at me because they know how long the longing lasted.
We could’ve taken a stroll in the shade of the trees or could’ve had a picnic there while watching the joggers and the sunset.
I could’ve introduced you to my friends – they’ve been meaning to meet you. They too know how long I’ve been stuck on an island by myself. They know who I was when I was eleven and when I was sixteen and I bet, if you gave them a chance, you could’ve heard the crazy things we did.
And maybe they could’ve liked you. They could’ve told me how lucky I was and probably would’ve warned me that if I hurt you, they’d stick with you instead of me.
I could’ve introduced you to my family — my mom liked you even then. I could’ve introduced you to my little brother who I would consider as the biggest and most important judge of character because I believe that children can sense goodness in people and he could’ve seen that in you.
I could’ve written you letters, could’ve left random little tokens I would've used for all the words I cannot muster to say.
I could’ve played the piano for you even if I just know, at most, 3 songs; even though I don’t really know how to read notes at all.
I could’ve introduced you to the artists I like and I could’ve known more of yours. I could’ve listened to them and I would have had to remember you every time.
I could’ve held your hand, could’ve eaten brunch with you, could’ve read you a poem.
I could’ve loved you — could have – if I was the given the chance.
But, I was and I could’ve used it but I didn’t.

I wondered what words I could use to solicit a response from you –
then, that’s when it hits me.
You do not respond to words,
you respond to the colors of the sea, of the sky, of the sand.
You respond to black and white photos and smiles that don’t exactly look happy. You respond to songs that makes sense of a moment – of a time that meant something more than the ticking of a clock. You respond to the reverie during the ungodly hours of the night, the messages that try to hide themselves in the shadows. You respond to the questions that do not ask what you do but how you do things and you respond to the why’s without being asked because you think it’s important to say it – the why.
And because I did not know these things well when I needed too,
I kept on waiting for this most solicited response only to be answered by unsolicited silences.

To you
I was never really fond of surprises
Then you came
The day I met you
I was glad to have found someone I get along with
That wasn’t the surprise
The surprise was when you first cheered my name
And how I wanted you to cheer me all the way
I wasn’t surprised when you walked me home
What surprised me was when I didn’t feel home when you walked away
So for many weeks or months
My heart jumps because of the surprise of you in everyday
So for many weeks or months
I wasn’t sure
And that’s not knew
I think I was never really certain of anything
Wait
I was never really certain of anything until there was you
And it’s funny how one I’m very sure of
Still surprises me
Like the night you tucked my hair behind my ear
Underneath the streetlamp
No brighter than you who have given light
In the past few months of chaos
Your eyes shined like they wanted to stay
It wasn’t surprising when you asked me if I like you, the next day
But I was surprised because, “I like you,” was all you wanted to say
The first time you said you love me
I wish I’ve said it before you did
I was pretty sure I’ve felt that way a long time ago
And it has been a while since those times
I couldn’t say it was a surprise when we ended
Neither was the fact that I didn’t want it too
It was amazing
How I waited for shooting stars and 11:11s
How I wanted to go back in time and make things better
How I tried to tell you and show you
That some things didn’t change
I still love you
I still love you
I couldn’t say it was a surprise when I stopped hearing that
But I was sure of what a surprise it is when you came back
You showed me what love is
In colors
Wrapped in silver and gold
When you looked at me
I saw what those stories told
In winks and glances
I am not letting go of any more chances
It was not a surprise that my heart still beats the same track
And I will replay over and over
That time you told me, “You’re not alone anymore,”
What a surprise that was right after all this time
When you hugged me
You picked up the pieces I thought were lost forever
You
Yes, you
I am not really fond of surprises
But you were the best yet.

In this vast galaxy powdered with glitter,
(each more bizarre than the other)
two lone stars drifted too close,
fluttering amicably as planets and moons pass them by –
shyly gleaming in the clouds or
slyly glinting sparks to the Sun:
destined to fall out of orbit whizzing to detonate a
supernova...